


Selbstfürsorge

by brodeurbunny30



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Bubble Bath, Captain Cold - Freeform, Fluff, Gratuitous Imagery, Heatwave, Len needs a break, M/M, Mick Rory in a bath tub, Timeline What Timeline, Undetermined timeline, coldwave, self-care, thicc mick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 18:58:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18413918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodeurbunny30/pseuds/brodeurbunny30
Summary: The Legends are on 'Shore Leave' and Len plans a heist to pass the time but Mick has a better idea. Len is introduced to the concept of self-care and the importance of a good bubble bath.  Vague unspecific timeline.





	Selbstfürsorge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idareu2bme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idareu2bme/gifts).



> For idareu2bme who definitely needs some soft!mick and len
> 
> Also, thank you to idareu2bme for beta'ing her own gift like a champ and helping me grow as a fic writer. thank you sooo much.
> 
> the title loosely means self-care in German, and is a nod to idareu2bme's Mick/Len fic, Sehnsucht (which is super awesome)

Len grimaced as he dialed Mick’s cell number. Mick never answered texts, so the fact that he hadn’t responded to his multiple texts wasn’t exactly cause for alarm. On the other hand, Mick running over an hour late for their designated meeting was both distressing and irritating.

He tried his number again. Still no answer. In fact, it even went to voicemail. Since when did Mick have voicemail set up? More ringing and then the voicemail message started. Mick’s growl laced voiced rumbled in Len’s ear. 

“Eat it.”

 _Nice voicemail message, Mick. Very classy._ Len shook his head. Mick never let his phone go unanswered. This was worrisome and inconvenient.

A flurry of negative thoughts went through Len’s mind. Had Mick gotten caught up with the wrong crowd? Did CCPD pick him up on some outstanding warrant? Was he passed out and suffering alcohol poisoning? (That last one seemed the most likely) Still, difficult to tell. They were on ‘shore leave’ as it were from the Waverider. Both Sara and Ray needing time to see to a few matters and they dropped Mick and Len in present day Central City just long enough for them to participate in at least a few shenanigans. 

Both he and Mick had agreed to pull a relatively easy bank job that would be in and out, neat and tidy with a fair chunk of change put into their respective nest eggs. They were supposed to meet to crush out details before tomorrow’s start time but Mick… Mick was MIA.

It was deeply vexing.

Loose ends were one thing, but having to physically go find his partner and get him back on track...well, that put Len in the prickliest of moods. He had things to do and places to be. He ran a very tight schedule and Mick was throwing it all to the wind.

He was putting together quite the scathing rant in his head as he threw on his helmet and jumped on his bike.

There were going to be words.

***

Mick wasn’t at his usual hangouts; not Sinners, not his favorite pizza joint, not at their shared safe house. Len was a ticking time bomb of outrage by the time he remembered Mick kept a private residence for when he was keeping a low profile. Something must have really spooked him to get him to retreat that far into the outskirts of the city.

Len spotted Mick’s junker in the driveway, half-obscured by overgrown hedges and shrubs in the inky evening darkness. Finally, he found him.

His instincts were still in high gear as he inspected the car; no sign of distress or a sloppy drunk park job. He looked up at the older style home with the broken shutters and iron bars over the windows. No lights to indicate he was in, but that didn’t tell Len much.

He reached into his pocket for his knife; he rarely used it, preferring his cold gun in most cases but the need for discretion was paramount in this case. Len climbed up the side steps quickly and quietly. No way would he ever put Mick’s place on the radar if he could avoid it, no matter how bad the situation. If Mick was in trouble, he’d much prefer to handle it quickly without much fanfare.

With his knife ready, he tried for the door; it was unlocked. Not a good sign. His mind raced with all the potential reasons why the door was unsecured, and the instincts from a career in crime kicked in.

The inner door swung open into a dark living room. There were no signs of any unsavory visitors and no sign of Mick.

Len cursed under his breath and crept through the front room in the pitch black. He moved slowly, keeping his eyes peeled and his knife ready. Down the hall a light flickered, and Len’s pulse raced. Someone was in the house.

He moved slowly, sticking to the wall for security. He came upon the light, it was almost alive… definitely not a flashlight. It was coming from the bathroom. Len continued and held his breath as he turned to face who or what was in that small room.

Len’s eyes almost fell out of his head as he took in the scene.

There, up to his chin in fluffy bubbles, tucked neatly in the bathtub with fruit slices over his eyes, surrounded by half melted candles, was Mick.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Len’s voice escaped in a hiss of breath. He brought a palm up to his forehead in exasperation. Mick hadn’t even heard him, maybe even asleep under all that fruit salad while hippie ocean sounds played from somewhere. 

He tucked away his knife and tapped an impatient foot against the bathtub. That seemed to get Mick’s attention, as he snuffled from under all his bubbles and reached two heat reddened hands to his face to remove what Len now saw were cucumber slices from his eyelids.

 

“LENNY!” Mick’s voice was both surprised and welcoming. It irritated Len beyond measure.

“Hello, Mick.” ground out Len. “Enjoying yourself?” 

Len had to put in an extra effort to keep his voice cool even though there was a very loud, very elaborate string of expletives going through his brain at once. Worse, his neatly crafted heist schedule was now well and truly fucked. While Mick was laying there LITERALLY looking like he was fresh from getting fucked ten ways from Sunday. Len felt himself redden like Mick’s knees sticking out of the far end of the bathtub.

Mick smiled goofily which only grated Len’s now rattled nerves further. 

“Sure am, boss.”

Len rubbed a hand across his face and hoped his sigh sounded less emotionally strained than it felt. He popped a seat on the closed toilet seat lid. “You know, you were supposed to meet me at Sinners over two hours ago.” 

Mick was reaching low next to the tub where he was harboring an open can of beer. He took a long swig as if considering how to answer. Len felt his eyes follow the bob of his adam’s apple as he did so and visceral thoughts of what that throat could do punched him in the gut. Mick was purposely dragging out the silence.

Len fumed at how nonchalant he was. _How dare he._

“Hmmm.” Mick hummed from somewhere in his throat and it was borderline filthy to Len’s ears.

“Is that so?” said Mick. “Gonna be honest. Lost track of time. Real sorry about that.” 

His tone was way too relaxed for bailing on a work meeting. Len squinted. No way in hell he was even remotely sorry. Len’s brain went through another round of expletives and Shakespearean insults before his voice settled on resolute coolness.

“You know, we had a plan. We _still_ have a plan for tomorrow’s gig. Are you bailing on me? Cause if you are, I’d rather know now, to be honest.” He wasn’t going to mince words. He had been at home sorting through plans and schematics and here Mick was having a _spa day_ in the buff, soaped up to his admittedly meaty pecs like he was doing a fireman’s calendar boudoir shoot.

Mick’s grumble was non-committal. 

“Is that a yes? Or a no? You know, Mick, I’d really like an explanation here. You don’t even like being in the rain, nevermind being up to your eyeballs in a bubble bath. What is going on?”

Len was breathing a little heavier, his pulse clipping just a little quicker. The anger he initially felt over discovering Mick’s reason for missing their meeting was starting to dissolve and become a fiery heat in his gut that he’d rather not feel, not here, not now.

Unaware of Len’s inner turmoil, Mick had the nerve to lay back and put the damned cucumber slices back over his eyes.

“It’s called self-care, Len. Haircut was talking about it on the ship. I couldn’t get it outta my head. You know we do so many freaking missions, almost get us killed so often and what kinda payoff we get? A couple of hours here and there to sit around and watch movies and eat grilled cheese made by a robot? It’s not easy out there on the Waverider.”

Len rolled his eyes, everything he was saying was true… but doing death defying things was kinda part of their MO. What had changed? Some stupid yoga retreat schlep speech by Raymond? Palmer, Doctor freaking Sunshine who tried to get the team to hold hands and do trust falls. Yeah, that’s a hard pass in Len’s book. Since when did Mick even care about these things? 

“Since when do you listen to anything Palmer says?” It was a pointed question that sounded a little childish even to his ears but he was quickly losing ground to Mick’s logic and he wasn’t going to let that fly.

Mick grabbed for the now mangled and soggy cucumber slices, choosing at that moment to look Len dead in the eyes in the candlelit bathroom. It forced the breath from Len’s lungs. 

“Since Haircut started to make some sense.” said Mick. “We each gotta take some me time. We don’t get any on the ship.” 

Len bit his lip at that, and he hoped Mick didn’t notice. He wasn’t wrong. There was precious little privacy on the Waverider and one mission rolled into the next and they almost never got adequate time to even digest all the crazy shit that happened out there. Maybe that dumbass Boy Scout had a point, no matter how stupid it sounded to his ears to admit it.

Mick must have sense his very minor amount of waffling. He shifted in the tub, choosing that moment to wave vaguely at his set up with a strong hand.

“Sara then tells me that cucumber’s a good way to reduce puffiness under your eyes after some hard drinking. Ray said lavender’s proven to reduce stress, swelling and promotes relaxin’ healthy sleep. Not going to lie, sounded pretty good.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” It came out a bit petulant, but he was scrambling to refocus on the job they had agreed to do, that Len may be considering bailing on....very remotely.

“Yeah, I do. Ain’t nothing wrong with takin’ care of yourself with some downtime. Maybe you should try it.” 

Len huffed and tried to absorb Mick’s very obvious assault on his senses. He could pretend Mick was doped up on something, and that listening to Palmer, the King of Boy Scouts was absolute blasphemy. It’d be a lie though. 

“There’s room in the tub for two, Len.”

All of Len’s higher brain function ceased to exist. Out the window went all plans, the heist, his outrage, his frustration, the Waverider… it was all gone. There was only Mick. Mick who hummed happily from his spot in the tub. His burly shoulders and pecs bobbing towards the surface where bubbles were starting to dissipate. His skin looked all warm and inviting, but Len’s cruel brain reminded him solemnly that their time exploring each other’s bodies had been long gone along with their youth. Only the callous rough outer shell of a close partnership remained.

Still, the longer he watched Mick’s chest rise and fall in that steamy water, the more he was tempted to once again be like that reckless teen who took chances getting burned by a fiery young Mick Rory.

“Tell your brain to shut up,” Mick’s voice cut through his thoughts-- a habit he still had the knack for. Len felt his grimace soften.

“The bank’s not going anywhere.” He smiled and it was both sinful and full of promise. “I won’t tell anyone if ya take some me time.”

Len cleared his throat. He’d be lying to himself if he wasn’t tempted.

“Been a long time, but I might still be able to rock your world, Boss.”

At that utterly cheesy line, he felt all the emotions bubbling just below the surface burst through his self-made icy facade and shower the heavy tension with genuine laughter.

A warm, strong hand reached out to find his. Len was immediately glad the room was dark except for the twinkling flames of some cheap scented candles, relieved that Mick wouldn’t see the flush of raw excitement in his cheeks.

“Haven’t heard you laugh like that in a long time.” Mick’s voice was heavy with regrets of the past but tender enough that Len knew that he was glad for whatever it was that was happening between them right then.

“Are you that certain that I’m not going to just walk out of here and go right back to prepping for the job tomorrow?” It was a poorly disguised flirt.

“I just know you’re a smart guy. I think you know a good thing when it’s in front of you.” Mick flashed him a ridiculous, shit eating grin.

Len rolled his eyes. “For the record, I hate when you’re right.” He drawled through a smirk.

And just like that he was standing up and breathlessly tugging off his clothes and climbing into the tub. The process took a little bit of care and a little rearranging from Mick who was more than happy to use any excuse to run his hands over Len’s skin.

They both sighed contently once Len was laying across Mick’s body, his shoulders cradled by Mick’s broad chest, head tucked neatly into the curve of his neck. He gave out a little moan of approval and Mick gave his thigh a little squeeze in agreement. 

Len took a deep breath and felt tension drain from his body. He felt himself mentally and physically lean into the situation, especially the stupid bubbles that were actually pretty relaxing. That was when he heard a very strange mood killing sound.

The foreign sound was some sort of faint wailing and crashing of waves that wasn’t coming from the tub.

“Mick?”

There was a rumble emanating from Mick’s chest near Len’s ear. “Whale sounds. They’re supposed to be relaxin.”

Len slumped heavily against Mick, sighing. He attempted to sound open minded, but there was a fine line between soothing and annoying, and weird orca wailing might be over that line. “But whale sounds?”

“Can’t you just shut up and relax?” Mick jabbed a finger into Len’s side forcing a surprised gasp from his lungs.

Len felt himself grin despite the acoustic bombardment. He twisted to look Mick in the eye and popped an eyebrow playfully.

“Maybe you should make me.”

It was Mick’s turn to laugh. It was as warm and encompassing as he remembered. It made Len remember how much he had missed the sound and the lightness of their early partnership, their closeness beyond a set of schematics and a couple of weapons.

“Done it before, can do it again.”

Strong hands embraced Len tightly as Mick pressed a knowing kiss to his lips. Len felt himself relax fully for the first time in a very, very long time and it felt special. He sighed happily letting his brain process the evening’s incredible turn of events. He was loathe to admit it, but maybe, just maybe he could loosen the reigns on his tightly organized lifestyle and pencil in some self-care like this a little more often. _Especially_ if a naked Mick was involved. 

He cursed to himself. He really did hate it when Mick was right.


End file.
